A friend I had in California many years ago was a classical composer. This was HIS nightmare, a recurring one, in which he gets to the very end of a masterpiece… and can’t finish it. The ink turns into his blood and represents his frustration and anger. And desperation. As he described it, in VIVID detail, I was mentally painting it, and couldn’t wait to get home and start it. He said I captured it pretty well. This was done in Pelikan Ink, on watercolor paper. It is 18" by 24".